


You Have Died of Dysentery

by killerweasel



Category: Good Omens (TV Series)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 19:06:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19774513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerweasel/pseuds/killerweasel
Summary: Few games are as frustrating as 'Oregon Trail'.





	You Have Died of Dysentery

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I wrote a few years ago for a different fandom and I've mucked with it a bit because I find the entire thing hilarious no matter who is in it.

Title: You Have Died of Dysentery  
Fandom: Good Omens (TV Series)  
Characters: Crowley/Aziraphale  
Word Count: 1079  
Rating: PG  
A/N: After Episode 6.  
Summary: Few games are as frustrating as 'Oregon Trail'.

Aziraphale frowned while he tried to read the next chapter in his book. It was an original print and he wanted to see if it differed from a later version he'd had for decades. Every time he began to turn a page, Crowley swore loudly, totally disrupting his concentration. Finally, after the sixth interruption, Aziraphale turned around. "Crowley, my dear, why do you keep swearing rather creatively at your laptop?"

"I'm playing 'Oregon Trail' and it's kicking my ass." He made an assortment of rude gestures in the direction of the computer screen. "One of my bloody oxen just died."

Curiosity got the better of Aziraphale and he walked over to where Crowley was sitting. He pulled up another chair. On the screen, an ox was plodding its way along a path while the date and weather appeared above its head. This wasn't like the other games he'd seen Crowley play. The demon tended to go for louder things with annoying explosions, all of which tended to drive Aziraphale right up the wall.

Crowley leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple. "I played this a few times ages ago when I had to do a little mischief in America. Stupid game is ridiculously addictive and had to be created by someone from Hell because it's almost impossible to win."

"I don't think I've ever heard of it." Aziraphale chuckled as a tiny, rather pixilated stick figure spun in circles while attempting to shoot various animals. "I think the point of this is to hit the animals, not the rocks and trees, Crowley."

"Shut up. This is harder than it looks." He pressed the spacebar and barely missed a deer which was now trapped behind a tree. "Damn it!" He tried shooting the deer three times, swearing even louder when he missed yet again. "You start off by picking what your occupation is. I picked the banker because I have never managed to get all the way to Oregon with the other two choices. I almost made it when I was the banker last time." Crowley tried one more time. He shot a squirrel just as the time ran out. "Great, a whole two pounds of meat. That'll really help."

"May I try?"

Crowley shot Aziraphale a look before moving his hands from the keyboard. He pointed out what the various buttons did and then watched Aziraphale play. "Anyways, then you pick your party of five people, you buy supplies, and then you head out. Hey, you got a buffalo! Way to go, Aziraphale!" He slapped Aziraphale on the back, nearly knocking the angel out of his chair.

"Why is it not allowing me to take all of the meat back to the wagon?" Aziraphale's eyes narrowed. "Shouldn't I just move the wagon closer? That would make sense. You don't just leave eight hundred pounds of meat on the ground!"

"Yeah, well, there are a lot of things like that in the game." Crowley pushed his glasses up his nose. "Just wait until we get to a river crossing. I dread those. They never, ever end well."

"I take it you're the leader of this party?" He watched as the oxen began their journey again, occasionally stopping because someone in the group had broken a leg or been bit by a snake.

Crowley grinned. "Nah, I made you be leader this time. Then there's me, Beelzebub, Michael, and Gabriel. Gabriel keeps getting dysentery."

"'A thief steals ten sets of clothing during the night'. Why would anyone steal clothing?" Aziraphale took another turn at hunting. He shoot two deer, a rabbit, a squirrel, and a buffalo.

"Stop wasting bullets. You're not going to be able to take all of that to the wagon." He gasped. "Crap, we reached a river. Aziraphale, I can't do this. You pick the choice. We're all going to die if I pick it."

"You only have three options and one of them isn't really a choice. How are conditions going to improve? It's a river." He studied the remaining options. "We're going to float across because the river is rather deep." Aziraphale glanced over at Crowley. The demon had his eyes covered. "Oh, stop being so dramatic, Crowley."

"I'm not looking. Let me know if we survive."

Aziraphale held his breath as the wagon began to float across. It made it half-way before capsizing. "Keep your eyes closed."

"We should have made it by now." Crowley peered through his fingers. "Does that say I drowned in the river? Aziraphale, you killed me!"

"I didn't mean to." Aziraphale stared at the screen in horror. "The depth of the river and the length of the crossing justified floating the wagon. I'm sorry, I've ruined your game."

" _Our_ game isn't over yet." Crowley clicked a button to get the wagon rolling again. "We're going to get everyone else to Oregon or die trying."

Almost an hour later, they were within sight of Oregon. They'd lost half of their party due to illness and another disastrous river crossing, but Aziraphale and Beelzebub still remained. Crowley's hair was wilder than normal due to his constantly running his fingers through it whenever something dramatic happened. Much to Crowley's amazement, Aziraphale had removed his jacket and was playing in his vest and shirt.

"Okay, this is our last big choice, Aziraphale. Do you want to float down the river or just pay the money and take the safer route into Oregon?"

"Pay the money, Crowley. I don't think I could handle the stress of trying to steer through a raging river." Aziraphale bit his lip. "We might actually make it to our goal."

Both of them leaned closer as the wagon moved across the screen. When the words 'Willamette Valley, Oregon' appeared on the screen, Crowley let out a whoop of joy, and jumped out of his chair. He did a little victory dance, shaking his hips.

Aziraphale had barely stood up when he found himself being embraced by Crowley. He blinked in surprise. Crowley grinned at him before letting go. "We did it! We made it to Oregon."

"Indeed. I was worried for a moment there. I thought we were going to run out of food." He slipped his jacket back on. "I think we should celebrate. How about we go to the place with the fantastic little chocolate tarts? Then we can come back and split that bottle of wine we've been saving."

"I like the way you think, Aziraphale."


End file.
